


The Butterfly Obtains

by honorarycassowary



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Post-Arc 15, Torture by Asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorarycassowary/pseuds/honorarycassowary
Summary: Skitter coerced Parian away, and now Lily is breathing out butterflies. Not an opportune time to confront an insect-controlling warlord, but she needs to know what Skitter did to Sabah.
Relationships: Lily | Flechette | Foil & Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver, Lily | Flechette | Foil/Sabah | Parian
Kudos: 14





	The Butterfly Obtains

**Author's Note:**

> Hanahaki disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. This was inspired by seeing a conversation about alternate versions of hanahaki, including one where the sufferer got literal butterflies in their stomach. Being me, I immediately wondered if Skitter could control these magic butterflies while they were inside of someone and used Flechette and Skitter's argument in Arc 15 as inspiration.

If being around Parian had taught her anything, it should have been how to watch out for tripwires. That had been how she'd signaled Sabah when she was out on patrol: she'd find a tripwire somewhere in Dolltown and set it off, and then wait for Parian to come. It had been a game for them - Parian hiding the threads, and Flechette finding new ways to set them off.

But she'd gotten complacent.

Parian's tripwires were hard to see in the ruined building she'd set up in, but they were upholstery thread, Sabah had told her. Over a hundredth of an inch thick. Ten times as thick as hair. A hundred times thicker than spider silk.

 _C_ _o_ _ming here had been a monumentally stupid idea,_ Flechette thought as she gagged. It wasn't like having a stomach bug. It was more like shoving your fingers down your throat, except from the opposite direction. She hunched over on her hands and knees and heaved.

It wasn't supposed to feel like this.

It _hadn’t_ felt like this. Two hours ago, she’d been sitting in Wards HQ watching butterflies unfold from her lips with each breath. There was no pain, no hesitation. She’d cared for tiger swallowtail caterpillars in a terrarium once as a child and remembered the way the butterflies had emerged from their chrysalises, their tentative first steps. The butterflies from her throat had been as unhesitating, a crawling reminder of the words she’d choked back.

Flechette heard a droning buzz behind her and tried to turn, to rise to her feet. That was what pushed her over the edge. She doubled over again and vomited a handful of butterflies.

Skitter and her mutant insect landed on the roof. "You came here to fight me like this?" she asked. The insects around them joined in the words, filling the air with a furious hum that somehow amplified the villain's words, instead of drowning them out.

"Fuck you," Flechette gasped. The butterflies had settled on her lips, and the words startled them into flight.

"Your arguments have gotten worse since we last spoken," Skitter said. She held out a hand, and the butterflies settled on, resting on top of the crawling swarm that covered her arms.

"It wasn't like this until you spoke to her." _Got into her head. Made her pull back from her family. From me._

"I'd say it's fortuitous. We get Parian, and you're obviously out of action now. Maybe not as thoroughly as if Regent had gotten into your head, but I can change that."

Something inside Fletchette _twisted_ , and she screamed. She immediately regretted it. She sucked in air, but it didn't reach her lungs. _Butterflies blocking my airways,_ she realized.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. She could breathe again, but it hurt. It reminded her of trying to breathe in the Wisconsin winter, the time they'd flown her team out to the quarantine zone surrounding Madison. Fitting that the only thing that could match Skitter was a wasteland of horrors.

"I've met people with your condition before, but I've never had the chance to really use my power on one."

Flechette wanted to ask how it was possible to only use her power on someone a little, but she was still panting. And she was sure Skitter had some justification. She had only made them vomit insects, she hadn't stopped them from breathing. Just like she'd only shoved capsaicin-covered hornets into Flechette's mouth and eyes, she hadn't ordered them to sting.

"It's fascinating," Skitter continued. "I can feel them inside you, but they're not real butterflies in there. If they were, they wouldn't be able to survive inside you. They'd suffocate and die in a manner of minutes. They're more like the constructs Panacea made for me - they don't have digestive systems, they feel different from other bugs." She tilted her head consideringly. "Actually, they feel a bit like heartworms do in dogs. But as soon as they're outside, they're like any other butterfly. If Amy were here ... she'd be able to explain it."

It was being rubbed in her face. Skitter said one thing to Parian, to Sabah, to persuade her to join up with criminals. Then she said another. Did she have any idea how fucked up what Panacea did was? Or did it all blend together for her? Was one teammate turning heroes into sick puppets any different from another?

"I almost want Brockton Bay to be condemned," Flechette said, "Just to see if you'd still cling to your speeches about helping people when you see how you've undercut the relief efforts at every opportunity like - like a nest of termites."

She felt a bit proud of the wordplay there, until Skitter cut off her airways again.

"Why can't you let Parian make her own choices?" Skitter said. "You call yourselves heroes, but you're always trying to force everyone else into behaving in the way you define to be 'good'. Is it so hard to believe that you're all fucked up? That the Protectorate is rotten from the inside out? Is being a 'hero' really the right thing to do, when I can spare two hundred thousand dollars to help Parian's family when the PRT wasn't even sending them fresh water?"

It hurt. _This was like waterboarding,_ she thought. It wasn't something you could get used to. The pain and fear of suffocation was too primal.

It lasted longer this time. Or maybe her lungs were just raw from before.

Skitter released her. "Food for thought," she said.

Flechette held up her middle finger.

"Suit yourself," Skitter said. "But you do know that the fastest way to solve this problem of yours would be to join us. Parian's still in the city. You could have her and do - "

"She's not something to have!" Flechette burst out. Her lungs protested, and she coughed raggedly before continuing. "She's not a - a bargaining chip in whatever grand plan you have going on! She's a person. She's my friend."

"Not anymore."

"If you had spoken to Parian for more than the ten minutes it took to extort her into helping you, you'd know that's not true. She's not ruthless like you, and she doesn't give up on people."

"Neither do I," Skitter said. She knelt by Flechette and showed her her cupped hands. Cradled in them were the butterflies she'd torn from Flechette's throat.

"I'll show these to Parian," she said quietly. "They're cabbage white butterflies, so they’ll survive anywhere. Even here. Consider it."

Flechette wanted to vomit again. After everything she'd done - but Skitter was already turning to leave. She clambered onto her giant beetle. It could have been awkward, a moment that revealed her for the teenager she was, but the mass of insects flowing around her made it look intentionally stilted, like a horror movie scarecrow brought to life. She turned to look at Flechette and nodded. And then she was gone, slipping away uninjured and unbothered to hide like the cockroach she was.

Flechette knelt on the rooftop. She noticed for the first time that it was wet and gritty - the sand sealant of the asphalt had been torn by Shatterbird's attack. For some reason, it was grounding. It wore away at the past few minutes.

She pushed herself to her feet and took a deep breath. On the exhale, a butterfly came out. She held out her palm and let it alight.

The motion might have been natural. But it might not have been. Another tiny way the Undersiders ground down any hope of trust the rest of the city had in each other. Moles, mind control, psychics, strangers. You couldn't even trust a bug on the wall.

She didn't know if Skitter could hear through her bugs, but it didn't matter. Saying her thoughts made it real.

"I'm not letting you take her," she said to the butterfly, and crushed it.


End file.
